


Just Say Hello

by awkwardrainbow



Series: Drabbles, One-Shots, and Unfinished Ideas [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Best Friends, But not quite, F/F, Just a quick dabble., Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, Unrequited Love, sad but sweet, sort of angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10727796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardrainbow/pseuds/awkwardrainbow
Summary: Lexa misses Clarke, and Clarke misses Lexa. They can't really do anything about it, but that doesn't change the fact that Clarke is always the one to give Lexa the hope she needs, no matter how far apart they may be.





	Just Say Hello

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like a year ago, I just found it recently, read it over, liked it, and thought I'd share it. I think it had plans to be a story, but it never made it that far. Anyways, I hope you like the dabble. :)

She isn’t sure what does it. Isn’t sure if it’s the crack in her voice over the static of the phone or if it’s just the fact that she had called her, of all people, which does it. She sobs, she cries into the phone, weakness that Clarke is never shown. This kind of weakness she doesn’t show to anyone. Clarke quickly decides that this sound, the strangled one coming from her throat, is probably the worst sound Clarke has ever heard. The worst part about it all was she couldn’t do anything. She could only sit on the phone with her, breathing into it, trying to think of something right to say as she cried.

Clarke felt useless, completely useless. Her small mutterings of “don’t be sad,” and “its gets better,” only made the noises worse. Clarke quickly stops trying to comfort her with words, aware they aren’t going to help and only breathes into the phone. She listens as she sobs and Clarke can almost see her, curled against her couch, tears staining her face, running down her cheeks, soaking the pillow she’s clutching to her chest and Clarke’s heart lurches. It clenches and lodges in her throat uncomfortably. Her own eyes grow glassy with tears as the crying persists.

Clarke isn’t sure if this is what does it. She isn’t sure if this is the exact moment that Clarke fell in love with her. It’s hard to decide, out of all the moments and shared smiles and kept secrets, it’s hard to decide. But this was the only part of her Clarke hadn’t seen, this was the only part of her Clarke was sure she’d never see. But now that she has, even though she isn’t in the same place as her, now that she has, it’s hard to say that there was a moment before this that she was sure she was in love with her. Falling maybe, plenty of moments she could say she was falling, rather slowly torturously slow, falling all the same… But this moment, in this moment as she listened to her sob, as she’s forced to listen to strangled noises and hiccups, Clarke is absolutely sure. She isn’t falling; she’s already on the ground. She hits it hard, a lot harder than any other moment in her life. The fall had been slow, but the impact was quick. She hit and every piece of her shattered with this feeling, overwhelming her, tightening in her chest and her throat. And she was sinking in it and flying all at the same time.

Clarke wasn’t afraid. Clarke had spent years getting over this fear that comes with loving someone as much as Clarke loves her. She’s been preparing for it for… ever since she met her in that dingy old park with the rusty swing sets and old broken play set that Clarke liked to climb on during her bad days. She’s had so much time to learn to not be afraid because this feeling is beautiful. Even if it’s never returned, and in Clarke’s case, she’s sure it might be, but if it’s not… It’s okay.

Clarke loves her anyway.

“Clarke,” Her voice is strangled as Clarke thought it would be when she finally speaks. Her voice is so different from its normal confidence. She usually keeps her emotions hidden, her voice even. But there is nothing but emotion here and Clarke can feel herself trembling with the impact of it.

“Lexa,” She whispers back, quietly, as if she were to speak to loud it would tear them apart in a world that’s already been trying to do that since their first awkward greeting. A love like this… one this rare and beautiful and strong and whole-consuming has always been fought against. Clarke and Lexa, they have fought for it, even without ever muttering those words. They have fought for it in the dim nights of drunkenness when they’d sleep to close, in the warm embraces they’d share when one has to part from the other, in the press of lips to another’s neck that seems far more intimate then a simple friendship. They fight for it hoping the other won’t see, but at the same time, hoping the other does see and one of them finally gains the courage they need to say something to the other.

“Come home.” Vulnerable and destroyed, Lexa begs even though she knows she shouldn’t, even though she knows she has no right to be this selfish, even though she knows Clarke won’t, she begs. She begs because Lexa feels lost without her, because her family is gone and she is alone. She has other friends, but none of them are her family, none of them are Clarke, and she is alone. She doesn’t want to be alone.

“Lex,” Clarke breathes out, her chest tight and burning with the thought of what saying no at this particular time could do to her. Clarke doesn’t want to say no. But they both know she can’t. They both know Clarke has put so much time and money into school and that picking up and leaving isn’t really an option at this point. They both know Clarke can’t. But Clarke doesn’t want to say no, and Lexa begs anyway.

“Just for a while,” Her voice growing impossibly quiet, breaking and cracking between syllables. She thought maybe she’d be done crying soon, but the flow seemed never ending. Lexa felt she could cry forever, she was so alone and cold and she missed Clarke. Clarke, who has never seen her cry. Clarke, who she had picked up off the ground after her father’s death. Clarke, who had stuck up for Lexa when she didn’t fit in with people in high school. Clarke, who made everything that wasn’t okay, okay again.

“Lexa,” Clarke breathes again, because she can’t. It’s the middle of the semester, she can’t go anywhere. She’s interning at one of the hospitals close to her school, things are well. Things are going the way they should even though they aren’t perfect. Clarke can’t pick up and leave, and they both know that.

“I know.” Lexa chokes out after a moment, throat tight and straining with pain.

“Maybe you can come here,” Clarke whispers, because she wants to be where Lexa is. She wants to comfort her and help her, she wants to hold her and whisper all the things Clarke loves about her in her ear. Clarke wants all these things, she wants Lexa. But things aren’t always that easy, life… it isn’t always that simple.

“You know I can’t.” Lexa’s voice is less strangled in her reply and Clarke thinks she’s finally calming down. Clarke, selfishly, isn’t sure how much more she can take of listening to Lexa sob without being able to fix it. Clarke feels useless and she’s never liked feeling useless.

“I know things are hard.” Clarke whispers quietly, picking at the carpet on her floor where she was sitting. Her back was against the wall, her head leaning back against it as Lexa sobbed into her ear. “But it’s okay. It gets better Lex.” Clarke tries to be honest, tries to find some way to comfort her since she can’t just hold her.

She hears Lexa snort with disbelief. “You say that all the time.” She mutters quietly, voice tired and finally, finally calm.

“I know.” Clarke’s reply is clipped but sincere, and she finds her blue eyes looking at the pictures she has scattered along her apartment walls of the very girl that has her heart.

“Don’t ever think you have to say goodbye Lexa. You don’t ever have to say goodbye. Just say hello.” Clarke rubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands, emotions draining on her. Her voice was thick the way it gets when she’s trying not to cry, her throat had that lump in it that she could never fight off. All she can think is how ridiculously selfish it would be of her to cry right now, to cry because her best friend, the girl she loves, is in so much pain and it hurts her too. How ridiculously selfish it would be of her to cry right now while Lexa needs her to be strong.

“Hello…” Lexa mumbles the word as if she’s testing its worth, tasting it on her tongue. She says it like she’s never even heard or spoken the word before. Clarke marvels in the way she can do that. Make something so simple sound so impossible and so beautiful.

“When you feel alone Lexa, just say hello. Say hello to the air, pick up the phone and say hello to me, say hello to the friends you’ve been neglecting, say hello. Because hello is full of hope Lexa, hello is beginnings and happiness and possibilities and may we meet agains. Just say hello.” Clarke is pulling this one straight out of the air. She isn’t sure how she comes up with it, if it’s been festering up inside of her or if its spur of the moment, but it’s the best she can do.

Lexa snorts again, but it’s one of those giggly snorts she does when she thinks Clarke is being ridiculous. It makes Clarke smile and the lump in her throat significantly lessens “Hello huh?” Lexa tests lightly, her tone softer but raw from all of her sobbing. “Hello…” She says again, this time to the air, feeling the weight of the word on her tongue.

“Hello.” Clarke replies with a ghost of a smile on her lips as Lexa snorts again. She knows it isn’t enough, she knows it’s not going to help the way Clarke wants it to help. But it’s what Lexa needs now, and Clarke takes comfort in the fact that she can at least provide this small thing for her.

“I realize you probably just made that up, but I kind of like it.” Lexa admits. Clarke closes her eyes as she listens to the soft raw voice static its way across the phone speaker and into her ear and through her body. She hums in response, feeling the exhaustion of her day and of Lexa’s emotions. Her limbs weak and eyes heavy as she listens to Lexa breathe into her right ear. It almost feels like Lexa is here, right next to her, breathing quietly as she leans on Clarke’s shoulder and plays with her fingers. The thought makes Clarke feel lonely too.

“I’m tired Lex, so I might fall asleep.” Clarke mumbles, standing from the wall she had been leaning against and heading toward the bedroom now. The room was only lit by the moonlight seeping through the window, but Clarke had been wandering around in the dark all night so her eyes needed no time to adjust. She found her bed quickly and slipped under the covers, feeling the comfort of the mattress embrace her tired body as she found security in her pillows and the soft breathing of Lexa in her ear.

“I’ll stay on the line until you fall asleep.” Lexa promises, as if it was Clarke that needed the comforting only minutes ago, as if it was Clarke who had been sobbing into the phone speaker begging to come home. It makes Clarke smile because Lexa is so selfless, she barely thinks about what she needs and it’s always about the people she cares about, the people around her. It aches Clarke’s tired heart and makes it soar with the weight of how in love Clarke is with her.

And Clarke almost says it. Almost crosses that thin little line between them that they’ve avoided, treaded along, blurred over and over and over again. Clarke almost says it in her tired state, sleepy and clouded with her whole-consuming love for the brunette on the other side of the states. She sputters it, but it isn’t coherent, there isn’t any way that you can make out the three little words in her mumbles, all slurred together and grumbled into the speaker as Clarke tips her head into it, keeping Lexa’s close as if her body is beneath Clarke.

But Lexa makes it out, because she’s consumed with the same feelings, the same yearning to say the words too. And when the blonde’s even breaths come, heavy to signify that she is no longer conscious, Lexa says them too.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment, hit the kudos... or don't. You do you bud. :)
> 
> Twitters [@miselizalycia](https://twitter.com/miselizalycia) and my tumblr is [jazzyjazzin,](https://jazzyjazzin.tumblr.com/) hit me up if you wanna chat and follow me to keep updated and to find out more information on my fanfics.


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